


Detective Hotel Love Quest <beta>

by tonbosan



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Community: badbadbathhouse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-29
Packaged: 2019-09-29 17:15:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17207588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonbosan/pseuds/tonbosan
Summary: Adachi's caught in a game before the game starts.





	1. Disk 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written several years ago, this is a response to a request for P4 in text adventure format. It's incomplete, though slightly more is posted here than in bbbh.

You enter the well lit, pristine lobby of the Amagi Inn. You drag a raindrop speckled hand through your raindrop speckled hair and look around. A front desk is in front of you. There are exits to the east, west, and south.

>look desk

There is no one behind the desk. The Inn doesn't seem to be very well maintained.

> i

Your hope is low, your despair is high, and your emptiness is at nil. You have zero points. You also have a wallet.

>look wallet

It's a featureless oak brown imitation leather wallet.

>open wallet

Inside the wallet are some crumpled NOTES, a BADGE, an ID CARD, a neatly folded piece of SCRAP PAPER, and a crumpled RECEIPT.

>look notes

You have 7,500 yen. If you try your frugal best, you might be able to make it last till the end of the month. Your hope has increased by 1.

>look receipt

It's a receipt from Junes, the local superstore. It indicates a purchase of 1 tube of toothpaste, 3 bars of soap, a six pack of Asahi beer, a number of assorted fruits and vegetables, canned sardines, a loaf of white bread, a dozen eggs, five packets of Nissan instant noodles, and a joy buzzer. You berate yourself for once again wasting money on a foolish toy. Your despair has increased by 1.

>look scrap paper

You unfold the paper. Room 131 is scrawled across it in smudged red ink. "That's right," you think. "It was a palindrome." Your emptiness has increased by nothing.

>e

You walk down the narrow corridor of the hotel. It's pleasantly silent. You wonder if they have any night shift personnel at all. Small towns are like that, you suppose, but it's not like you would know. You pass room 111. There are exits to the east and west.

>e

You walk down the narrow corridor of the hotel. It's eerily silent. An odd smell emanates from beneath the door of 119. There are exits to the east and west.

>sniff door

You bend down in front of the door and breathe in deeply. Your lungs are filled with the homey aroma of natto with a hint of seaweed, ginger, and salmon roe. Interesting. You'll have to try that combination sometime. But not until after payday. Salmon roe is expensive. Your emptiness has decreased by nothing.

>e

The carpet's worn down and stained in this part of the corridor. The wall is streaked with water damage. You suspect the tourist season came and went a long time ago. "Probably mostly locals in this dump. The elderly," you think, "bet they come here for anniversaries or affairs. They're all gonna die soon, so why not? Another six or seven months give or take and the place'll go bottom up, or if it's lucky bought up by one of the business hotel chains. Nah, it'll just go bottom up." You sigh and keep walking.

Seconds later you pass room 127. The door is open, but it's dark inside. The corridor continues to the east and west.

>e

You keep walking until you see the door to room 131 on your right. Static-filled voices from a radio or television waft into your ears. It figures the reception is poor all the way out here in yokelville. There are exits to the east and west.

>knock door

You rap your knuckles gently but firmly on the lightly varnished surface of the door to room 131.

After a few seconds, a woman's voice answers. "Who is it?"

>introduce self

You clear your throat and introduce yourself. The crackling noise ceases. The door creaks open. The short chain of the latch bars your entry. A sliver of a slender woman of medium height and close-cropped jet black hair is standing behind the door.

"So you're the one from the phone," she says, her overly made-up eyes raking over you with studied nonchalance. "You sound a lot different in person."

"May I see some ID," she continues.

>show id card

She takes it from you, peers at it, smiles slightly, and returns it. Your fingers brush for a millisecond - a sensation you file away for future reference.

Your hope has increased by 1.

You have reached the End of disk 1. You have zero points, moderate hope, high despair, nil emptiness, and a wallet. Your game has been saved. Insert disk 2 to continue.


	2. Disk 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Disk 2 of the pre-P4 text adventure starring Adachi.

You are standing in the Reading Room of the Amagi Inn, in front of a large flatscreen television. It seems like the newest, most well-kept item in the room. Dusty shelves of worn paperbacks, tattered magazines, and yellowing newspapers line each wall.

You are breathing heavily, as if you've just overcome an asthma attack. But you don't have asthma.

There is a small tear in your shirt around the collar.

The only exit is to the north.

>what the hell happened to me?!

We'll get to that later.

>WTF is this

You've lost me.

>i

Your hope is low, your despair is moderate, and your emptiness is where you left it. You have a point. You also have a wallet.

>open wallet

Inside the wallet are some crumpled NOTES, a BADGE, an ID CARD, a neatly folded piece of SCRAP PAPER, a crumpled RECEIPT, and an EYELASH.

>look eyelash

It's as fake as your smile. Your despair has increased by 1.

>wear eyelash

People would get the wrong idea.

>look badge

It's a shiny City of Yaso-Inaba Municipal Police badge, or CYIMP badge. Too bad the town isn't named Haru-Umeda. That would be more apt.

Your emptiness has increased immeasurably.

>polish badge

You spit on your palm and rub it against the badge. Then you rub the cuff of your shirt against it. You notice one of the buttons is missing. The badge gleams up at you, shinier than you'd expected for such a quick and dirty polishing job. You'd polished it with actual polish this morning. It's a ritual you've performed for seven years, and unlike most things in your life, it hasn't begun to lose its luster.

Your hope has increased by 1.

>n

You are in a corridor of the Amagi Inn. An elevator is in front of you. The only sound is the faint hum of machinery. The corridor leads east and west.

>use elevator

The doors open instantly. It's so nice not to have to wait. You take pleasure in the small joy life just waved your way. You get in the elevator and the doors sigh closed behind you.

Your despair has decreased by 1.

There are a row of buttons on the control panel.

>press button

You press the button that catches your eye. You feel lightheaded and slightly queasy as the carriage moves downward. It must be a newer, faster elevator.

Your emptiness decreases immeasurably.

A few seconds later, the doors open. You exit into the first floor lobby.

The lobby is pristine and empty. Several extremely cushy beige chairs are here. A small glass table sits in front of the chairs, a vase of colorful plastic flowers resting in its center. In a corner of the room is a beverage vending machine. The air conditioner is on. It emits a loud whir. Perhaps it is an old model, unlike the elevator you were just in, or the television upstairs.

There is a door leading east and a door leading south.

>s

You are standing in the entrance way to the Amagi Inn. Your car is parked in the small parking lot to the east.

>e

Your car is here. The window is open.

>look window

Your keys are in the front seat. It's such a safe town, you rarely bother to take them with you when you exit the vehicle.

>open door

As usual, you've left it unlocked. Crime is rare in this area, and your car is so decrepit you doubt any thieves would consider it worth their time.

>take keys

Taken.

>Get in car

You're sitting in the driver's seat. Your cellular phone is precariously balanced on the dashboard. Sticking out of the glove compartment is a rolled up newspaper.

>take phone

Taken.

>look phone

The print on the buttons is fading but you're a practiced touch typist so it doesn't bother you much. You should get a new one sometime. Maybe next month. The battery is half-empty. The display screen indicates that you have three missed calls.

>look screen

You press a button and check the display screen. It appears all three calls come from the same number.

The phone begins to vibrate. It's - no surprise - the number you were just staring at. It's the only number you get calls from.

>turn off phone

Done.

An excuse begins forming in your mind. It's weaker than the coffee you tossed down the break room sink this afternoon. But that doesn't bother you much. He'll buy it. He always does.

Your emptiness has evolved imperceptibly.

>look id

This is what you use to identify yourself to strangers. It makes them trust you. Why? Because a) people are typically very gullible, b) they become even more gullible when they see the P-word, and c) a big, bright smile always helps a lot more than it should. Never underestimate the power of a happy face. You had one of those when the picture was taken last year. It was one of the real ones. One of the last. Those smiles always looked just a little bit better on you than what you've got now. But it doesn't matter. No one in this town apart from yourself will be able to tell the difference.

Your emptiness has reached in.

>use key on car

You start up the car. The engine shudders to life, choking on its own bottomless roars.

>drive

Where do you want to go?

>drive away

What do you want to drive away?

>drive away emptiness

You can't do that.

>drive away despair

What do you mean?

>open glove compartment

You pull open the glove compartment and the rolled up newspaper falls into your lap. Inside the glove compartment are driving gloves, a dust cloth, and your gun.

>take gun

Taken.

>look newspaper

You flip through it. When you get to the entertainment section, a familiar face beams up at you. Her smile's falser than her eyelashes and worlds more convincing. "Never trust first impressions," you tell yourself. As a detective, you should have known better.

Your emptiness has reached out.

>take emptiness

You already have it.

>drop emptiness

It can't be dropped.

>kill emptiness

And just how do you intend to do that?

>kill emptiness with gun

It doesn't have the desired effect.

>kill emptiness with hope

Sounds like you need some sleep.

>bang head against steering wheel

There, there.

You've wasted enough time here. The engine's running. A voice in the darkness advises you to make your next move wisely. You have lost a point.

>drive home

You drive to your apartment on the other side of town. It's not a long drive, but it allows you some moments to collect your thoughts.

You have a wallet. Your hope is low. Your despair is crushing. Your emptiness is reaching out. You have no point. You have a destination.

You are in the car, heading home.

>wait

Time passes. You are in the car, heading home. Something is bothering you.

>think about what's bothering you

It's hard to think right now.

>think hard about what's bothering you

You concentrate on your breathing, pushing any inconsequential mental clutter aside. You see only the road in front of you. There is little traffic at this time of night. You release your eyes from the road and give complete attention to what's on your mind.

You think about what you did, and what you didn't. You're not sure which bothers you more.

Your emptiness is hidden.

>Think about what you did

It bothers you, but you do it. It's worse than you think, but not as bad as it could be.

Your hope has increased by 1.

>Think about what you didn't

It bothers you, but you do it. It's not as bad as you think, but it's going to get worse.

Your despair has decreased by 1.

You're feeling a bit better now. You relax slightly, and let your mind wander.

>wait

There's no way around it, the cover up has to be worse than the crime.

You have gained a point.

You have reached the End of disk 2. You have a point, moderate hope, high despair, hidden emptiness, a wallet and a destination. Your game has been saved. Insert disk 3 to continue.


	3. Disk 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unfinished third chapter (aka Disk 3).

You wake up. It's freezing. You must have left the window open.

>close window

You'll have to get out of bed first.

>i

Your hope is moderate, your despair is high, and your emptiness is with you. You have a point. 

>look

You are lying on your back on the futon in your bedroom. A thick navy blue blanket reaches your neck. There is a small table beside your futon. Your wallet, cell phone, and gun are there. There is a sliding door to the north, and a rack of drying clothes on the other side of the room. Next to the rack is a mirror. A string of plastic beads hangs from the light in the center of the room. The window above the wall behind you is open a crack. Moonlight filters through the glass and a mild breeze causes the open curtains around it and the clothes hanging on the rack to flutter very slightly. 

>take all

You take the gun, phone, and wallet. The rack of clothes is too bulky to take.

>get up

You get to your feet. You're shivering. 

>look rack

There are several pairs of black pants drying on the rack, as well as some white long sleeved shirts, and some T-shirts in a variety of colors. There are also a a few pairs of socks and underwear, attached to one of the hangers with clothes pins, as well as a belt draped over an otherwise empty hanger at the end of the rack.

>Take clothes.

You find the driest pieces of clothing and put them on. You feel a little warmer now. 

_Your despair has decreased by 1._

Close window.

>Done. You feel a little warmer now. 

_Your despair has decreased by 1._

>look mirror

You look at yourself. You’re that tired, laid-back guy, the one who’s going to need at least three cups of coffee to function this morning. There’s something else, but you look away.

>look mirror 

You look at yourself, again. You’re that easy-going, affable guy, the one who’s going to get scolded by his partner for coming in to work five minutes late and getting coffee cup rings on his desk. There’s something else, but you look away.

_Your hope has increased by 1._

>look mirror 

You look at yourself, again. You’re that young, cheerful guy, the one who’s going to get drunk tonight and forget about how much the week has worn your spirit down to a restless little nub. But it’s no big deal, really, because you’re lucky you’re alive. After all, you’re in the police racket, and people die all the time in this game. There’s something else, but you look away.

_Your hope has increased by 1._

You look at yourself, again. You’re laughing. You try and clamp your jaw shut, when you realize it already is. But you’re still laughing. He won’t shut up. You reach forward to cover his open mouth, but you’re just covering your own soundless one. There’s someone behind you.

_Your emptiness twitches._

>look behind you.

There’s no one there.

>look mirror

You look at yourself, again. No one’s laughing anymore. You’re pale and shaking. How long have you been standing here, waiting for something to reveal itself? Don’t answer that. How long have you been aching for a plan to entwine yourself with, a plot to lose yourself in? Don’t answer that. How long can you go without - there’s someone behind you.

_Your emptiness stirs._

>look behind you.

There’s someone behind you.

>look behind you.

You’re there. You whisper in his ear. “It’s going to happen.”

_You have gained your bad self._

You whisper in his other ear. “You’ll be surprised at first, but sooner or later—

“—things will fall into place,” he finishes. He runs a hand through his dry hair and straightens his tie. You knock it slightly out of place. He straightens it again. You let it slide because it’s already late.

“I’m here if you need me.” You disappear.

_Your bad self has gone inside. Getting in touch is self explanatory. And because apathy’s a silent killer, you have also gained the ability to fast-forward the slow parts._

>fast-forward the slow parts

You’re fast-forwarding…

…where do you want to stop?

>where something was left out

Specifics would be helpful.

>Crime scene.

There is no crime scene, at least not *here*, detective.

>You know what I mean

That’s debatable.

>I can’t go back to the crime scene?

*You* can only go one way.

>wait

Time passes. It’s nauseating to be stuck in fast-forward. You are feeling ill.

_Your hope has decreased by 1._

>Can I see the victim?

I don’t know. *Can* you? It’s nauseating to be stuck in fast-forward. You are feeling ill.

_Your hope has decreased by 1._

>I'm lost

Indeed. It's a good thing I found you.

>HINT

Giving up already? Are you sure?

>SAVE

You can't save anything here.

>QUIT

You can't do that here.

>HELP

What do you need help with?

>What should I do next?

You know what to do. Just let things play out. Act normal. But do what you need to do.

I don't understand.

>You just think you don't understand. Give it some time. You'll get used to it. 

_Your hope has increased by 1._


End file.
